


we should just kiss like real people do

by bluegothic



Category: Eye Candy (TV)
Genre: F/M, Some Fluff, Some Sex, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegothic/pseuds/bluegothic
Summary: The threat of a blizzard sends Tommy and Lindy to a motel for safety.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [davidrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidrose/gifts).



> This is set at the end of season one (or the end of the series/I'm still fucking bitter). Dedicated to my wonderful and patient friend Val, whom this fic was promised to practically a year ago (if not more). I love you.  
> Title is a lyric from a Hozier song. This is 100% unbeta'd.

Lindy doesn’t thank Tommy for finding her. She doesn’t have to. He knows she is grateful when she wraps her arms around him and holds her body against his. Her heartbeat thumping against his chest says more than any  _ thank you _ ever could.

In return, he doesn’t say a single word. She recognizes the relief in his eyes and in the touch of his hand. He pulls away from her embrace and carefully guides her to his car.

 

Flurries of snow begin to dust the roads not long after they hit the road, and a deep voice on the radio announces an oncoming blizzard. 

“So we should probably find a place to crash for the night,” Tommy speaks, finally breaking the silence between them. “It’s getting dark and the snow isn’t going to make all this driving anymore fun.”

Lindy nods and stares out the window, and something deep inside her changes, lifts and warms in a way words can’t explain. There was something about snow that always reminded her of better times, of Christmases spent building snow people with Sara, and running back inside for hot chocolate, cheeks pink and frozen by the chill.

“I love snow,” Lindy say with softness, almost absentmindedly.

Tommy turns to glance at her quickly, her tired expression unchanged, before turning his attention back to the road in front of them. He laughs. “Let’s see if you’ll still be saying that when this blizzard picks up.”

About fifteen minutes later, they pull into the tiny parking lot of a cheap motel. The ‘y’ light on the vacancy sign is out and the first ‘a’ is flickering. Lindy is tired of not being home, but she is grateful enough to finally shower and to have an actual pillow to lay her head on.

 

They are fortunately able to spring for a room with two beds. There is so much unsaid between them that Lindy feels the weight of it like it was a separate being. A palpable presence, dividing their sides of the room. In a way, she has never felt so close to someone who felt so far away.

“I’m just gonna hop in the shower and then give George a call. Let him know everything’s okay,” Lindy announces, reaching for her phone on the bedside table, frowning upon the realization that her battery is about to die. “Shit. My phone’s dead. Do you have a charger?”

“I think I left it in the car. I can go get it-”

She cuts him off. “No, that’s fine. I’ll get it. Where are your keys?”

“Lindy, it’s still coming down pretty hard out there. Don’t be so stubborn. Let me get it for you.”

“No,” she says, her voice firm and demanding. Her gaze is unflinching, her eyes urging him to stop patronizing her. “It’s just snow. I can go by myself.”

“I would feel a lot better if you just let me get it,” he says, already heading towards the door.

She stops him with a hand on his arm. “Why is this such a big deal to you? It’s just snow,” she says again, the tone in her voice still sharp, her gaze still hard, but there was a soft plea hidden somewhere underneath it all.

Tommy gives in. He reaches into his pocket to pull out his car key, and hands it to her with a reluctant sigh. “Fine. But don’t expect the shower to be free when you get back.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “I’m going to be gone for like, forty seconds. It better be.”

He smiles at her for the first time since he could barely remember, and his voice teases her when he responds. “We’ll see about that.”

 

He starts running the water as soon as she’s gone, and slips out of his dirty jeans and t-shirt, and into the water. He could almost feel each individual drop of water, warming his skin, slowly working to relax his nerves.

He hears Lindy return a moment later, and almost laughs to himself when she lets out a heavy, exasperated sigh and starts pounding on the door.

“Tommy!” she shouts, and he could practically picture her face in his mind: eyes narrowed and dark, mouth quivering into a snarl, like she was about to growl at him, threatening to bite. 

It makes him want to laugh all the more.

“To be fair,” he calls out to her, a smirk on his face she can’t see, “I did tell you this would happen.”

“Don’t talk about fair! You’re going to use up all the hot water and I’m freezing,” she shouts.

“What did I say about going back out in the snow?”

It’s almost strange, the ease at which they are able to slip back into this back-and-forth. Just less than a few hours earlier, he couldn’t have been sure he hadn’t lost her for good. They hadn’t spoken to each other for a good length of the time they’d spent together since then. And yet, it still feels natural - right, even - to throw words in her face the way he had use to, like nothing between them had changed at all.

“I’m gonna come in there and kick your naked ass!”

“I fucking dare you!” he shouts back.

“You’re gonna be  _ so _ sorry you said that!”

Before he could say anything else, he turns around to face the bathroom door to find Lindy standing before him, her features blurred by the condensation and water on the glass door. Too frozen in his place to react, he just stares at her. 

Suddenly, the water feels too hot.

She meets his gaze for a moment, and he doesn’t necessarily know what to make of any of this.

“Get the fuck out,” he finally speaks, voice breaking. “El baño está ocupado.”

But Lindy doesn’t flinch. In fact, seemingly without a thought, she steps forward and slides the shower door open, closing the space between them just enough to tiptoe up and kiss him.

He is taken aback at first, but gives in as soon as he is able to grasp what is happening, his mind still racing. His hands are shaking as he pulls her further into the shower, fingers racing up the length of her spine. Her clothes are soaked already, and she begins to claw at the hem of her shirt, discarding it onto the floor of the shower.

It’s almost like everything that had ever happened in their lives had led up to this moment, gaining momentum with each passing moment they’d spent together. That’s what it tastes like, at least, when Tommy has his mouth on her bare shoulder, teeth grazing her skin as he follows the path of her collarbone on his way to her neck.

His head is still in a spin and if he could think straight, he would be wondering how he’s even managing to stand right now, but his thoughts are too clouded with Lindy’s name and her body and her hands, which were now gripping at his hips.

All too aware of the advantage she had over him, half-naked versus fully nude, his own hands head for her waist, hastily unfastening her jeans. Lowering the garment down her legs proves to be a challenge, given how tight she wore them and how drenched they were, but they soon join her shirt in the corner of the shower.

Her underwear is Tommy’s next objective, and slide off with much less of a challenge.

At this point, the water that’s hitting their skin feels almost cold to the touch, and Tommy can’t tell if it’s because all the hot water has been used up or the heat between their skin became hotter.

Whatever the cause, it’s not something worth focusing on. There will be plenty of time for overthinking later.

It wouldn’t take a gun to the head to get Tommy to admit he’d thought about this before. Or at the very least, pictured Lindy naked. But the reality of it is unlike any image his mind could ever have created. In fact, he isn’t even sure if the memory of this would do the moment any justice.

She has him pinned against the wall just as his lips find hers again and with a little bit of effort, her legs are wrapped around his waist. Her hands are pressed against the wall behind him for extra support. 

His lips are just inches from hers now as they begin to move together. His mind finally settles - for the first time in his life, it feels like. It’s what he imagines meditation feels like, a completely conscious and aware, in complete control of every atom in his body, yet outside of himself at the same time. 

 

Later, Lindy is sitting cross legged on what they had decided was Tommy’s bed. Her damp hair falls to her shoulders in waves and she is wearing Tommy’s sweatshirt as her own clothing hangs to dry above the radiator.

Neither of them has yet to speak of what had just happened in the bathroom. It’s inevitable, of course, but for now they don’t have to say anything. And that’s a luxury neither of them are willing to waste.

Instead, they talk about everything else - a brief argument over Tommy’s car, a surprising agreement over the crappy motel TV lineup, their favorite winter memories.

“I don’t remember how old we were,” Lindy recalls, an almost sorrowful smile on her face, “but one year, Sara and I made this snow family. And it turned into this competition over whose snow people came out better and she  _ completely sabotaged  _ mine by ‘accidentally’ falling over and murdering my snow dad. I vowed to never speak to her again, I was so mad.”

“Little sisters are like that.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, biting her lip, her mind still lost in the memory. “An hour later we were inside with our hot chocolate, seeing who could come up with a better scary Christmas story under our blanket fort.”

“Scary Christmas stories? So you’ve always had issues,” he says, standing up from his position laying next to her on the bed. “I’m heading down for some vending machine coffee. Want one?”

“What girl can resist vending machine coffee?”

As soon as Tommy is out of the room, Lindy leans over the bed to check her phone. She had meant to call George earlier and had obviously been too preoccupied to do so. There are a few missed calls from him, but when she calls him back, it goes straight to voicemail. It is then that she realizes how late it is.

She leaves him a message telling him she’s okay, and that she’ll see him soon, and turns the volume up on the end of some old Kate Hudson movie. Before she knows it, she’s already drifted off to sleep.

 

Tommy reenters the room, shaking the snow off his shoulders. He smirks at the sight of her sleeping, her arms gently folded across her chest, her small hands lost in the sleeves of his sweater. He throws his jacket on the other bed and crawls into the empty space next to her.

He still doesn’t think about any of this. He doesn’t think about the skin on the shoulder the neckline of his sweater exposes. He doesn’t think about her body pressed up against his now, about how he now knows what it feels like. He doesn’t think about the way it felt to have her mouth on his body.

He doesn’t even wonder what any of this is, or if it’s the start of something he couldn’t begin to understand.

There will be plenty of time for that later.


End file.
